


To Catch a Snitch

by pristineungift



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dark Mark, Enemies to Lovers, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Humor, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Masturbation, Parseltongue, Porn With Plot, Quidditch, Realization, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Some Plot, Sports Metaphors, Swearing, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pristineungift/pseuds/pristineungift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter, Seeker for the Tutshill Tornados, is having trouble catching the Snitch whenever he plays against the Falmouth Falcons Seeker, Draco Malfoy. It is not because he's gay. Ok, maybe he's a little gay. Oh hell, he's super mega foxy gay. </p><p>Total PWP with some Quiddith exposition thrown in that pretends to be a plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Catch a Snitch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HPFangirl71](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFangirl71/gifts).



> **Original Author's Note:** This is by far the dirtiest thing I have ever written. Here's hoping it doesn't disappoint.  <3 Based on the following prompts: Harry/Draco; Parseltongue or Dark Mark obsession; I prefer smut so a G or PG rating would be a turn off; Lots of Smut is My Thing; I Like the Boys to be Rough with One Another; Quidditch; Shower; Sneaking Around; Dirty. [paraphrased]
> 
> Special thanks to my beta, and my britpicker, who put up with strange requests like "I need to know all British slang synonyms for masturbation and erection".
> 
>  **Author's Note as of 09.16.13:** This was originally posted anonymously to an exchange something like two years ago. However, as I have since written things that are just as bad, if not worse in terms of vulgarity, I figured what the hell, might as well un-anon.

In the third game of his fifth season as Seeker for the Tutshill Tornados, Harry Potter missed the Snitch.  
  
This was upsetting, but not unbearably so. He had the highest catch record of all Seekers currently playing in the British League. He had set the record for the most successful Wronksi Feints internationally. He was the bloody Boy Who Lived, and his skills on a broomstick (he doggedly stuck with the Firebolt series, though the new Tsunamis out of Japan were faster) coupled with his infamous scar had earned him the nickname Thunderbolt.  
  
So it was disappointing that he had not caught the Snitch, but he would not lose sleep over it. It was impossible to catch the Snitch every time, and his abilities as a professional Quidditch player spoke for themselves.  
  
When Harry failed to catch the Snitch again in an exhibition match, a few eyebrows were raised and Harry became slightly worried that had hit That Point in his career – the point every professional Quidditch player feared, the point when they began to be surpassed by other players more and more often.  
  
But Harry caught his next three Snitches, and the worry faded.  
  
The next time Harry missed a Snitch, it was Hermione that noticed his misses all happened when the Tutshill Tornados were playing the Falmouth Falcons. Considering who the Seeker for the Falcons was, Hermione suggested that Harry see a therapist, as his childhood issues with the man might be causing him performance anxiety.  
  
Harry agreed that he still had issues with Draco Malfoy, the Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons, but didn’t think a therapist was necessary.  
  
At least, he didn’t think so until the fourth time he lost the Snitch.  
  
It was a weekend tournament, double elimination. It didn’t count toward the League, but it was still money, and still Quidditch, and kept them in shape for the upcoming tryouts for the national team that would compete for the Quidditch World Cup.  Harry stood in the locker room given to the Tornados for the event, adjusting the fit of his leather pads over the light blue robes of his Quidditch uniform.  
  
Years of Quidditch training had given him powerful thighs and well-built shoulders, though he was lithe compared to the rest of his team – as all Seekers were. His hair was combed back and held in place with a charm to keep it from hindering his vision during the match, and his special sports lenses hung around his neck, waiting for him to remove his usual glasses and put them on. His scar stood out without his hair to hide it, though it was not as stark as it once might have been, for Harry was a bit tan from all his time outdoors.  
 _  
You are not intimidated by Draco Malfoy. You weren’t then, and you aren’t now_ , he thought to himself as the crowd roared. Harry retrieved his Firebolt and went to join his team at the door leading out to the Quidditch pitch.  
  
 _You are going to catch this Snitch._  
  
Harry kicked off the ground hard as the announcer introduced his team, calling out their names, sending himself soaring into the air at the end of their formation.  
  
“And here comes Thunderbolt Potter! He’s a favorite for the national team this year!”  
  
Fans in the stands chanted his name, raising their wands to shoot up blue sparks that formed a giant thunderbolt. He waved to them once to be polite, and then split from the team formation to take his starting position, blocking out the world around him.  
  
And then the Falmouth Falcons were tearing out over the pitch in signature bird of prey formation. They were awfully impressive in their new grey and silver silk uniforms, with sharp black leather pads. Harry suspected that Malfoy money was behind that.  
  
He wished he could say Malfoy bought his way onto the team, but he couldn’t really, not after Malfoy kept beating him to the Snitch.  
  
“And here’s the Falcons’ Seeker, Draco the Dragon Malfoy! Say what you like about his playing style, it can’t be denied that he’s an up and comer! The Falcons have started a steady climb in the League since he was traded from Puddlemere United!”  
  
Harry turned his Firebolt, eyes fastened on Malfoy. His long white hair was held back from his face by a black ribbon that matched his Quidditch pads. He was clearly still a vain bugger, for all that he and Harry got on well enough when their paths crossed. Somehow, though Draco had to be outdoors nearly as much as Harry, his skin was still fair - an even ivory that gave Malfoy the look of having been carved from marble.  
  
What a ponce.  
  
Harry tore his gaze away, focusing on the flash of gold of the Snitch being released, and then the Quaffle was in the air and the match was underway.  
  
The Falcons took possession of the Quaffle at the start, their Beaters ruthlessly working to keep the Tornado Chasers at bay, skimming ever closer to a foul, but toeing the line. They scored once immediately after the Tornados’ Keeper was forced to choose between guarding their lower goal post and being hit by two Bludgers at once, or dodging and leaving the post clear for a moment.  
  
Cursing, the Tornados Team Captain, who was one of the Beaters, made the hand signal that corresponded with one of the strategies in Harry’s carefully memorized play book.  Harry turned his Firebolt into a climb high above the pitch, no longer concerned with watching the rest of his team. The captain wanted him to focus on the Snitch, and provide a distraction should the Falcons get up more than fifty points, so that was what Harry would do.  
  
Malfoy ascended also, though not as high as Harry, as was his usual strategy. Malfoy was one of those Seekers that never liked to let the other team’s Seeker get too far away. It made him easy to bluff, to lead around the pitch, but it also made it easy for Malfoy to steal a Snitch after it had been sighted.  
  
Malfoy looked up at Harry, his grey eyes brought out by the color of his uniform. Harry swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and reminded himself that he was not intimidated by Draco Malfoy. There was a funny feeling in his lower belly that he didn’t usually associate with fear, but under the circumstances thought that was the only thing it could be. It sent a warm shudder down Harry’s spine, and he shifted on his Firebolt, loins tingling as his face flushed.  
  
Draco looked away and Harry felt a mix of disappointment and relief that he pushed to the back of his mind.  
  
The Falcon Chasers scored another goal, bringing the score to one hundred points for the Tornados and one hundred and fifty for the Falcons.  
  
It was time for a Wronksi Feint.  
  
Adjusting his grip on his Firebolt, Harry forced it down into a steep dive, purposefully brushing by Malfoy in his descent to further entice him to follow. The silk of their uniforms touched for a fraction of a second, and then Harry was gone, the wind against his face.  
  
Malfoy dove after him as the crowd went wild, believing that Thunderbolt Potter really had seen the Snitch.  
  
“Thunderbolt Potter is in the lead after the Snitch, the Dragon hot on his tail! Oh, the Dragon has rammed Thunderbolt, a vicious move on the part of the Dragon!”  
  
Harry swerved to the side to gain distance, and then with a great heave pulled his Firebolt back towards Malfoy, who let out a small grunt as their bodies collided. They continued the dive, the ground drawing ever nearer, their broom handles locked together. Harry could feel Malfoy’s breath on his ear, the strength of the shoulder pressed against his own, the heat of Draco’s body through the silk of their Quidditch robes.  
  
 _No, not again_ , he begged himself as his balls tightened and his mind conjured thoughts of Malfoy hard and naked almost against Harry’s will.  
  
He was suddenly very aware of the slightly vibrating length of wood of his broomstick between his legs, and his half hard cock blossomed into an erection that strained and pulled at his uniform as his mind replaced the broom he was riding with the pulsing, insistent dick of the man pressed shoulder to shoulder with him.  
  
His concentration completely shattered, Harry plowed into the sod of the pitch.  
  
Draco tried to pull up at the last moment, but couldn’t untangle his broom from Harry’s. They rolled together over the pitch, the fraught tangle of limbs driving Harry’s arousal even higher. He gasped and then uttered a choked moan when they came to a stop, Draco lying on top of him, Harry’s enormous erection pressed prominently and deliciously into Draco’s thigh.  
  
Draco’s eyes were wide, startled, his white eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline.  
  
And then he opened his hand, and Harry could see a flash of gold.  
  
“He’s done it! The Dragon has caught the Golden Snitch! The Falcons win!”  
  
Harry had been too preoccupied to realize his feint wasn’t a feint. Malfoy hadn’t chased him because he thought Harry had seen the Snitch. He was actually pursuing it.  
  
Flushing red, Harry pushed Malfoy off of him and fled the pitch, hoping to make it to the locker room before any of the reporters present realized that his tussle with Malfoy had given him a raging hard on.  
  
No. Not his tussle with Malfoy.  
  
He had a raging hard on that _just so happened to coincide_  with his tussle with Malfoy. That was it.  
  
Harry made it to the locker room, put his Firebolt down, and locked himself into a toilet stall, resting his head against the cool wood of the door.  
  
Okay so he happened to be playing against Malfoy every time he got a boner in the middle of a Quidditch match.  
  
Fine, fine, he  _only_  got boners in the middle of Quidditch matches when he was playing Malfoy.  
  
He couldn’t help it. Something about the platinum blonde Seeker made Harry think about lips on his dick and hands in his hair.  
  
It didn’t make him gay or anything. Lots of blokes had thoughts about other blokes even if they weren’t bent, he was sure. When he was going out with Ginny, he used to think about dicks while he was shagging her. The way it felt to have it in his hand, the heat of it. The way his come trickled through his fingers when he got himself off. It made the sex better, to close his eyes and imagine cocks in his face, pressed against his lips, or that another bloke was watching him fuck Ginny and wanking over them, hand moving up and down his shaft.  
  
Harry realized when he fidgeted that his thoughts were making his arousal worse. There was an obvious bulge in his robes that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a pocket rocket ready to blow, and when Harry looked down he noticed a small wet spot on his light blue silk.  
  
Fuck, he was randy as hell.  
  
It didn’t make him gay though.  
  
He had been in denial about the reason he kept losing the Snitch to Malfoy. In a way, it was a relief. He wasn’t losing his skills, he was just a horny nonce. It was probably because he hadn’t really had a proper shag since he and Ginny broke up. That had to be it.  
  
Because he wasn’t gay.  
  
Harry hid in the toilet stall until all of his team mates left. He let them think he was upset about missing the Snitch and wanted to be alone – which was true, but that wasn’t the reason he stayed in the stall. He couldn’t very well prance about the locker room with his knob harder than his Firebolt, nor shower in front of them when his bell end was purple and twitching from the amount of blood that had rushed to his groin.  
  
The thought of his team mates watching him shower made Harry’s nipples tighten, and the thought quickly progressed from them watching him shower to watching him wank in the shower, to all of them wanking as they watched him wank. His cock twitched, rubbing against his robes, and Harry’s hips gave an involuntary jerk. If he got any randier and thought any harder, he might just come on the spot . In his fantasy world he was wanking in the group showers, and his team mates were wanking and watching him, and then Malfoy came in, and he was naked, and he wanked, and then he shoved his dick into Harry’s face, and Harry kept wanking, and Malfoy’s dick was in his mouth, and fuck he really needed to actually have a wank.  
  
Ok, maybe he was gay.  
  
But if he didn’t have a wank in the next ten seconds, his balls might explode. They were so tight, felt so heavy, and his nipples and dick were so sensitive to any brush of his robes, fuck fuck fuck he needed a wank. He was so mad with lust he didn’t even care that he just might be gay, that maybe he was attracted to Draco Malfoy, or that he had just lost another Snitch. He just wanted his robes off and his dick in his hand.  
  
He was certain now that his team mates were gone. He unlocked the bathroom stall and made his way to the group showers, shedding his Quidditch pads as he did. He would pick them up later, after he had tossed off, because he would not be able to think again until he had done something about his throbbing cock. His hands were almost shaking, the wet spot on his robes growing as his lust rose to a fever pitch.  
  
Finally he was standing in the showers, moving toward them as he shed his robes, and air hit his dick and it was so good he moaned, and it didn’t matter, he could be as loud as he wanted because no one was there to hear him. He looked down his lightly muscled abdomen to see his erection standing out proud from his body, slightly curved up and pulsating with his need. He firmly believed that in that moment he could probably use it as a pillar to hold up Gryffindor Tower with no problem.  
  
Looking at his dick made him hornier.  
  
Dick dick dick, even the word made him horny.  
  
“I’m gay,” he said out loud, trying it on.  
  
His nipples got tighter, and he wrapped his fingers around his shaft, moving to lean against the tiled wall of the showers when his knees went wobbly.  “Fuck,” he said softly, purposefully picturing Draco Malfoy’s lips on his cock. “Fuck,” he said again, louder, emboldened. He was beyond caring about being caught. A small part of him even wanted to be caught, wanted eyes on him as he masturbated to thoughts of Draco Malfoy.  
  
“I should say you do need a fuck, Potter. Does Quidditch always give you a stiffy?” Draco Malfoy’s drawling voice interrupted the soft sounds of Harry’s balls slapping into the back of his fist and his low moans.  
  
Harry’s eyes snapped open, and he froze, his excitement ratcheting up another notch at the sight of Draco standing there, immaculate in his Quidditch robes. He didn’t take his hand off his cock.  
  
“M-malfoy,” he panted, pupils dilated with want, “what are you doing here?” Oh how he wanted to keep pumping into his fist, to watch Malfoy watch him, he was almost mad with it. He knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, standing there with his dick twitching in his hand, but he couldn’t be arsed.  
  
Speaking of arses, Draco had a lovely one, and suddenly Harry was really curious about gay sex, and gay sex with Draco, and fuck he just wanted to keep thrusting through his fingers.  
  
Malfoy blinked at him, appearing to take Harry’s reluctance to let go of his own dick in stride. Slytherins rarely seemed surprised by anything for long, Harry had found.  
  
“I came to talk to you about the Snitch,” Draco replied smoothly, his eyes traveling slowly down Harry’s naked form, lingering on certain areas more than others. Draco frowned and for a moment Harry was afraid Draco didn’t like how he looked naked, and didn’t even have the presence of mind to tell himself that was a stupid thought, because why should he care whether Malfoy liked his body.  
  
“I'd suspected that you’ve been letting me catch the Snitch out of some misplaced sense of nobility, or else been paid off to do it, but now…” Draco looked pointedly at Harry’s dick, “I think you’ve been having trouble keeping your mind on the game.”  
  
It took Harry several long seconds to work out what Draco meant, and several longer ones to make himself stop touching his cock. He just  _needed_  to get off so badly.  
  
“I wouldn’t throw a game,” he managed to say at last, not so subtly staring at Draco’s groin. Was it just him, or was there a bulge there that hadn’t been there when Draco first appeared?  
  
“Then I will leave you to your… business,” Draco smirked and turned, robes flowing around him. He was graceful in a way that Harry wasn’t, even more so on the ground than he was in the air. And there was definitely a bulge there that wouldn’t be in the usual course of things.  
  
Seeing Harry had given Draco an erection.  
  
“Do you want to watch?” Harry blurted without thinking, reaching down to cup his own balls. His eyes fluttered back in his head.  
  
Draco stopped, and slowly, ever so slowly, turned to face Harry once more with all the dramatic flair of the Malfoy family. It made Harry shudder in delight, and he didn’t even care enough to be disturbed that something Draco Malfoy did had made him shudder in delight.  
  
“Have you just invited me to watch you catch your own Snitch?” Draco asked delicately, one eyebrow raised. The bulge in his robes twitched.  
  
“Er, yes?” Harry said, already lightly stroking himself again.  
  
There was a long pause, and then Draco said, “I don’t think so, Potter.”  
  
But to Harry’s surprise, he didn’t leave.  
  
Instead, he approached Harry, then cautiously stroked his naked chest with delicately boned fingers. Harry had never noticed that Draco’s hands were as graceful as the rest of him. Draco tweaked one of Harry’s nipples with those fingers, and Harry lost what little self-control he had left, pulling Draco into his arms and roughly shoving his tongue into the other man’s mouth. Harry’s erection was trapped between them, and he moaned at the feel of Draco’s silk robes against the delicate flesh, and the hot press of Draco’s dick from the other side of the cloth.  
  
Draco’s dick.  
  
Merlin’s fucking bollocks, Draco’s dick was hot and pulsing and hard and pressed against his, separated only by a thin layer of cloth.  
  
Harry moaned, thrusting his groin against Draco’s.  
  
Draco reciprocated, tongue dueling with Harry’s as he fought for dominance in the kiss. Two spots of moisture appeared on Draco’s robes, one caused by Draco and the other by Harry. Harry moaned again, louder, hips jerking wildly. He had never been this hot, never wanted to come so bad. Draco pushed him back against the wall, making a noise very much like a growl. Harry would have protested the loss of contact, but then Draco was shucking his robes and Harry could rub their dicks together, and cup Draco’s balls.  
  
Then Draco slid to his knees, nails raking over Harry’s chest on the way down, and he gripped Harry’s dick in sure fingers.  
  
“Use your left hand,” Harry said, then blushed.  
  
Draco stared up at him for a long moment, and then complied.  
  
Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away. He knew it was fucked up, and he couldn’t explain why, and didn’t even care to know why, but something about seeing the Dark Mark vibrantly black against the white skin of the arm that was jerking him off made his balls ache in a delicious way.  
  
And then, when Harry thought it wasn’t actually possible for anything to be hotter than what Draco was already doing, Draco put his lips around the engorged head of Harry’s penis and sucked, swirling his tongue around the tip.  
  
“ _Fuck yes, Draco_ ,” Harry hissed, speaking Parseltongue though he did not know it. “ _Suck my dick. Fuck fuck_ **fuck** , yes, suck me off, Draco, so fucking hot.”  
  
Draco shivered under his hands. Harry moaned, thrusting ball-deep into Draco’s mouth, still frantically hissing in Parseltongue, pushed beyond coherency. He tore away the ribbon holding back Draco’s hair, and buried his fingers in it, urging Draco to suck harder and faster.  
  
Looking down, Harry met Draco’s eyes, watching Draco's lust-reddened lips move up and down his dick, watching as he trust into the slick heat of Draco's mouth. Moving his gaze down further, he saw that Draco was squeezing his own balls, working his own shaft fast and hard as he sucked Harry off.  
  
Seeing Draco wank, just after he had fantasized about watching him, the slick stimulation of Draco’s mouth, knowing Draco was watching him and horny because of him – it was all too much. Harry fucked Draco’s mouth, hissing like a snake, he fucked it hard and then he came harder. Draco jerked, his throat working and his seed splashing against Harry’s legs with his orgasm, and Harry slammed hard into Draco’s mouth, his balls drawing up as wave after wave of his come spurted down the blonde man’s throat.  
  
Harry held Draco’s head in place by his hair, thrusting one more time just because it felt fucking amazing, and then staggered back to slide down the wall, utterly spent.  
  
Draco looked at him, and Harry loved the sight of his come on Draco’s face, and realized he wanted Draco to come on his face, and his chest, and really he just wanted to do this again because it was bloody brilliant.  
  
“If you catch the Snitch the next time we play against each other,” Draco said, “I’ll let you shag me.”  
  
There was no force on Earth powerful enough to keep Harry Potter from catching that Snitch.


End file.
